To The Ones Missing Their Mom on Mother’s Day

Hey, there. Yes, you. The one who has a hard time walking through Target this time of year, seeing all the Mother’s Day cards, and daughters taking their eldery mothers shopping. The ones who slightly dread mid-May every year because you aren’t sure you will get through the day. You know who you are, and you know who I am. We are the Motherless Daughters on Mother’s Day.

Each year since my mom died, it’s the same. Everyone tells me to revel in the joy that is my own children. “Cherish these moments, because you can’t be sad having your own kids around!” I do. I love my children, and I don’t want them to be sad this time of year. I don’t want them to see their mother cry on a day where they have tried their best to make me handmade cards, or saved their pennies to buy me a gift. So, I’ve learned. I save my grief for the quiet moments.

The first few years, it happened as if I was already crying in a dream, and woke up in tears. The reality of waking up and knowing my mom was no longer alive was there all over again, just like the morning after I was told she died. That feeling in my chest, the split second of forgetting..and then it all coming back to me in a horrific wave of pain and sadness. I would walk to Mother’s Day breakfast with swollen, tear-stained eyes and try and hide my sadness.

But, I’m sad. My mother died at the young and vibrant age of 50. She was in a car accident while bringing my children home and she died. My children suffered horrific injuries that left them forever changed, and my mother, my rock, my ultimate hero, was no longer here to alleviate my burdens and shield my pain.

That was nine years ago this year, and it is still so hard for me. As a social media manager, I have to create content for the day for clients, with happy expressions and cheerful graphics. I scroll through my newsfeeds and see my friends sharing brunch with their moms, who are beautiful, wrinkled, aging and loving their grandchildren. As much as I want to feel joy for them, my heart sits-broken.

Know, my fellow motherless-daughters, you are not alone. When you have that knot in your chest while out with your own family, when you jump on Twitter and see #happymothersday2015, when you go shopping and the marketing for the day is everywhere-know that somewhere out there, someone is feeling it, too. You are not alone in your grief. It is okay that you are not okay. Take the time that you need, embrace the love when it’s given to you, and remember you mother, for I am certain she would be very proud of you.

Mom with my kids 9 years ago.

To the mother that carried me, that raised me, that loved me…the mother that dried tears from my eyes for every scrape, every break-up & every death…the mother who held my hand as her first grandchild was born, and cried tears of joy for her first steps, and first words. To the mother who was always there when I needed her, who shielded me from pain, from grief…the one who made me laugh, who drove me crazy…kicked my ass when I needed it…whose clothes I would steal from the closet as a teen (and an adult sometimes…)…My mom, my brave & beautiful mom, who protected her grandchildren until her last dying breath, who left me here without her body, but graced me with her strength, her love, her passion and her courage coursing through my blood: I love you so much. I miss you every single day. I cherish the very few Mother’s Day memories that we were able to share. You were my absolute hero & this day that I now celebrate with my own children, while it will never be the same after the tragedy that burdens us, I try my hardest, my damnedest, every year, to make you proud of the woman & the mother I have become. Wherever you are, I hope you are drinking some Mike’s Hard Lemonade and dancing on pool tables all weekend long. Cus that was how you rolled.

Happy Mother’s Day.”

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